Bringing Dad to Mexico

I know that I might have promised an interesting expose of my family’s visit to San Miguel de Allende. But finding the time to write about their visit between playing tour guide, translator and nursemaid (to my father) has proven a little overbearing.

There have been moments, to say the least. I did not know until only a couple of days before my father arrived in Oakland that he had fallen at his home and scraped his arm and twisted his ankle. This plus the residual restricted mobility from his stroke last summer, makes him nearly a wheelchair candidate despite his denial.

His weakness does, however, prove useful for travel. Special attention, early boarding, etc. When we arrived in Zacatacas to clear immigration, everyone off-boarded the plane except my father. After we had cleared immigration and stood waiting to re-board, the customs official boarded the plane and personally processed my father’s papers while he remained seated on the plane. Upon arrival in Leon, two attendants carried him down the stairs from the aircraft, on a makeshift dolly.

We took the hour and a half shuttle ride from Leon to San Miguel. After the red-eye flight we were all fighting to stay awake. My nephew’s wife kept repeating, “I can’t believe how tired I am.”

At breakfast my sister took one look at the menu and upon seeing Spanish, closed the menu and handed it to me. “You might look a little closer,” I said, “It is all printed in English under the Spanish. And the waiter will understand if you point.” Suffice to say, all I wanted was sleep and at one point, during a barrage of questions coming at me from all three, I lost it. “Frankly I just need sleep, NOW.”

When we got back to the house I closed my door, shut the drapes and slipped off my clothes. I’d been asleep for about two hours when I had the sense that someone was in the room. I removed my earplugs and my sleep mask and looked up. My father was standing in my doorway. “Did I disturb your nap?” he asked. “Yes. What do you need?” “Nada,” he replied, and hobbled off. (“Then why the hell did you wake me?” I thought.)

I then couldn’t sleep any longer so I got up and went to help my father unpack. “Dad, just for future reference, what part of a closed door with drapes drawn sends a message to you that says, “Come In”? I mean, I just need to understand this for future reference.” “Well,” he said, “I guess one might consider that an invasion of privacy.” “One might.” “Ok, Amigo.” (He never did really answer the question.)

It became immediately clear that I was not going to be able to share San Miguel with my father as I had hoped. I had envisioned trips to the ranch, the hot springs, the botanical gardens, but with his mobility so restricted these would be impossible. Just getting him in and out of a taxi proved a major event. The girls were largely satisfied to shop. And shop they did. Even if it was just for household items, they were thrilled when they came back successful. (They managed to plug up two toilets within the first couple of days so a toiled plunger was one of their first acquisitions.)
Despite Dad’s inability to experience the town like the rest of the family, he is really enjoying himself. I mean, who wouldn’t? He has a staff of four to attend to his every need. (When the girls left I told him that he should expect the service to suffer as he just lost 75% of his staff.)

So aside from a few restaurants and drives around town, Dad has spent much of his time at the house and we brought people to him. My Argentinean friend Matias offered to prepare a barbeque at the house so we had a crowd over and it turned out to be quite the little party. I invited Karla and Maricio. Karla is the ex-model who also has worked at a care facility and has offered to care for Dad should he move here. She is in her mid-twenties and is absolutely beautiful. She walked in the door with her husband and immediately said, “Where’s your father.” I directed her to the kitchen where she sat down next to him and quickly engaged him in conversation.

Andrea loaned me her car while the family was here and I was able to take the girls to a day trip to Dolores Hildago (more shopping) and, after Star and Rosie left, Susan and Dad to Pozos (ghost town – no shopping).

All the girls have left and now it is just Dad and I. Tomorrow we head back to the states. However, we looked at a country house today, on a little more than two acres, five minutes outside of town. It has a lot of potential. Dad wants to buy it and move here. Time for a family conference and quickly.

After looking at the house Andrea took us out to her father’s ranch where we were served lunch next to the rose garden, nothing but fields and mountains for our view. Most of the meal was made from items grown on the ranch, the lettuce and mushroom soup, the salad, the artichokes and the apricots. (The chicken was from the store.) Andrea had a special couch for Dad to nap on after the meal and she and I pulled chairs out to the lawn and watched the setting sun cast colors and shadows across the mountains. This place doesn’t suck.